Justice: Turnabout Solitude
by Child of Ragnarok
Summary: The second installment of the Justice trilogy. Time passes, but he is still in their thoughts. Rated T for mentions of character death and mature themes. If you have not done so, please read Justice: A Turnabout Gone Wrong before you read this.
1. Introduction and disclaimer

**Disclaimer****: The Ace Attorney series and all characters and events therein belong to Capcom.**

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**Welcome to ****_Turnabout Solitude_****, the second installment of the Justice trilogy. If you haven't already done so, I highly recommend that you read the first installment, ****_A Turnabout Gone Wrong_****, first.**

**_Turnabout Solitude_**** will be a compilation of twenty short stories, each regarding of a different character as they reflect upon times spent with Apollo and move on with their lives. Timelines will vary (before and after the funeral), and so will locations; both will be specified at the start of each chapter.**

**This story contains references to death and mature themes**** (albeit not mature enough to warrant an M rating). You have been warned.**

**I hope you will enjoy ****_Turnabout Solitude_****.**


	2. The Brother She Never Had (Trucy Wright)

**Chapter One: The Brother She Never Had (Trucy Wright)**

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_Time__: A month after the funeral_

_Location: Apollo's grave_

* * *

She felt guilty for not having come to visit him sooner. But she had her reasons.

Ever since... it... had happened, she had immersed herself in her schoolwork and magic shows. Anything to keep her mind off what had happened. Anything that could help suppress the horrible memories, if only ever so slightly. But of course, she had known that at some point she was going to have to confront the reality of what had happened.

Blinking back a few stubborn tears, the young magician took a deep breath and knelt down at the white marble gravestone.

"Hey, Polly..." she whispered, more to herself than to anything else. Every word seemed like a tremendous effort.

"How are you? I hope you're not giving Mr. Terran a hard time, wherever you are. Don't worry about me, I'm keeping the agency in good order. Although it's not exactly the same without you, now is it..."

A thought struck her. "Did you see your funeral? I wish you could have. It was beautiful. Mr. Gavin even sang." Then, on a softer note: "Of course, I wish this whole thing had never happened. That you were still here. With me and Daddy and Thena, cracking cases and getting justice for the innocent as we always did. Like we still have to do. Although we have to do it without you now."

She took another deep breath to combat the tears threatening to spill. "I... I really miss you, Polly. We all do. But... I don't know how to explain it. You were different from the others. Of course, Daddy is Daddy and I love him to bits, and Athena is a really good friend, but... I don't know. It felt like we just connected. Like you were my long lost brother or something."

Trucy smiled sadly. "Remember that first time I showed you Mr. Hat? When I had to use him to get a recess because we were up a creek without a paddle on Wocky's case? I know I didn't show it then, but I was really moved because you were so worried for me." She chuckled slightly. "Although I wish you could have been more cooperative with being my assistant for my magic shows. I mean, you were always so jittery during the knife throwing act."

She sighed to herself before straightening up, brushing some snow off her cape. "Well, I have to go. I have a magic show coming up in an hour. I wish I had an assistant who wasn't Wesley Stickler, but he was the only one who replied to my ads. And I bet he only wants to see my panties anyway." She smiled, imagining Apollo cringing at her choice of words. Which he probably would have.

"You be good now, okay? And say hi to Mr. Terran for me." She swallowed. "Bye, Pollo."

With one last tear rolling down her cheek, Trucy Wright turned and walked away from her (unbeknownst to her) older brother.


	3. Herr Angel (Klavier Gavin)

**Chapter Two: Herr Angel (Klavier Gavin)**

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_Time__: One week after Apollo's death_

_Location__: Prosecutor's Building - Klavier's Office_

* * *

To say that the atmosphere in a certain rock-'n'-roll god prosecutor's office was slightly less rock-'n'-roll as of late would be an understatement.

To say that the rock-'n'-roll god prosecutor in question was slightly less rock-'n'-roll as of late would be even more so.

Many among the Prosecutor's Office had been puzzled with the young prosecutor's friendly dynamic with his rival defense attorneys - after all, weren't they the _enemy_? Others (notably the Chief Prosecutor and Simon Blackquill) understood completely, due to their own friendly relationships with their rival defense attorneys. For Klavier Gavin, it was the most natural thing in the world, because of his brother. _At least something good came out of that man_, he mused to himself.

Normally, Klavier would be reading up on his next case, or playing guitar. Not today, though. Today, he was simply staring into the wall. He had an open file in front of him and a guitar on his lap. Neither of which interested him very much today._  
_

Contrary to popular belief, Klavier did not make friends very easily. Sure, he had no shortage of people around him, but that was generally because of the whole Gavinners thing. Only a select few people knew the man beneath the rock star. And one of those few was now gone forever.

There was a knock on the door, and the Chief Prosecutor himself entered the office. He looked at Klavier and sighed. "Prosecutor Gavin, I was under the impression that you were supposed to handle the Amano case next week." He got no response except for a blank stare. "Are you even listening to me?"

Klavier started. "Oh... uh... Chief Prosecutor! I'm... I'm sorry. There's a... a lot going on right now."

For a second, Klavier thought he saw a glint of compassion in the Chief Prosecutor's eye. Then it was gone. "Gavin, I know Justice was a friend of yours, but you need to get your act together. Take the afternoon off, go home and get your head together."

Klavier looked at the Chief Prosecutor and knew better than to argue. "Alright, Chief."

* * *

Once at home, Klavier lay down on his couch, lazily flicking through the TV channels. Nothing seemed to catch his eye - until one news report came on.

"I'm standing outside Courtroom 2, where bomb disposal specialist Ted Tonate has just been found guilty of an act of terrorism and the two murders of police officer Candice Arme and defense attorney Apollo Justice, both of whom were killed in Courtroom 4. With me here is case prosecutor Simon Blackquill. Mr. Blackquill, can you give us a statement?"

"Well, the details of this case are on a strict need-to-know basis" - _There's the Chief Prosecutor for you, _Klavier mused - "but Tonate was found guilty very quickly, with the mountain of evidence and testimonies against him. It will take further deliberation to determine his punishment, but it would not surprise me if he was given the death sentence." Klavier smiled mirthlessly. At least some justice was to be had.

Suddenly, an idea for a song struck him, the first since Apollo had passed away. He took his guitar and a notebook, and scribbled at the top of the page: "Herr Angel".

Dulcet tones soon filled the air, and Klavier smiled contently as he played. He couldn't bring Apollo back, but he could do the next best thing.

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**Author's note:**

**I intended to get this uploaded a lot sooner. I'm sorry. I... don't really have an excuse.**


	4. Science Doesn't Cut It (Ema Skye)

**Chapter Three: Science Doesn't Cut It (Ema Skye)**

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_Time__: A few days after Apollo's funeral_

_Location__: Precinct_

* * *

"This is the third time this week, Skye!" Clearly, the Chief Detective was less than pleased with his subordinate. "What do you have to say for yourself?!"

"I... I'm sorry, sir!" Detective Ema Skye was uncharacteristically meek. "I didn't mean to..."

"...smudge the footprints that had been _clearly _labelled as vital evidence and spill that hydro... hydroxy... uh..."

"Hydroxyacelunodosetrase?"

"Yes, that... all over the victim."

"I'm sorry, sir", Ema tried again. "It's just that I'm having a rough time right now."

"Look, Skye." The Chief sighed. "I'm sorry about the Justice kid. I knew you two were close. But you still have a job to do, and you've ruined this case." He sighed again. "I'm sorry, but I will have to suspend you for this."

If Ema felt any emotions, she hid them well when she spoke. "Very well, Chief Detective." She turned and left his office.

* * *

"Hey, Apollo." Ema had visited Apollo's grave practically every day since the funeral. Mostly for sentimental reasons, but today she just needed someone to vent to. Someone who wouldn't judge her.

"*sigh* You would not believe the day I've been having. For the third time this week, I've ruined evidence. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to look the fop in the eye again after this one. _*MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH*_"

A few people gave Ema a disapproving glance. After all, you're probably not supposed to eat Snackoos at a cemetery. She shot them the evil eye back before turning back to the grave. "Sorry about that. Some people just don't understand Snackoos. So where was I? Oh yeah, the evidence. I smudged some footprints and spilled hydroxyacelunodosetrase on a victim." She chuckled sadly. "Remember how much we laughed about how you never managed to pronounce 'hydroxyacelunodosetrase' right?"

Ema sniffled. A few stray tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I... God, I miss you, Apollo. It's like you were my only real friend. I mean, don't get me wrong, Trucy and Mr. Wright are still really great people and while it pains me to admit it, the fop isn't half bad either..." She chuckled sadly. "...but don't you _dare _tell him I said that!"

"I wasn't always like this, you know", Ema said softly. "I'm sorry I never told you about this before, but I got caught up in my sister's whirlwind of a case. I think it affected all of us, scientifically speaking. I used to be a more science-oriented version of Trucy." She smiled briefly, reminiscing upon better times. "And I wish I had known more about you. It would have been nice to know a little more about the man behind the spikes."

She sighed. "Well, I have to go. I'll be back tomorrow. It's not like I have anything better to do right now. I got suspended for that hiccup with the evidence." Some more tears spilled. "This is all your fault, you know. You big jerk. You just had to up and die on me." Her tears were now flowing freely, and she did little to prevent them. "I'm sorry, Apollo. God, I'm sorry. I wouldn't wish this on anyone, much less you. If I could, I'd pull you back to life in a heartbeat, at all costs."

As she turned to leave, Ema hesitated. The final words that came out of her mouth were hesitant, as if she was struggling to say them. "But I guess sometimes... science just doesn't cut it."

* * *

**Author's note: ****Well, that came out a whole lot stranger than I had intended it to.**

**I'm trying to vary the timeframes, locations and circumstances of every character's story, so we don't just get twenty chapters of everybody doing the exact same thing for the exact same reason.**

**Also, I'm going to try to update more frequently.**


	5. The Better Place (The Judge)

**Chapter Four: The Better Place (The Judge)**

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_Time__: A few days after Apollo's funeral_

_Location__: Judge's chambers_

* * *

Up until a little less than a month ago, the elderly, bearded gentleman would have relished a trial at a healthy volume level.

If you asked him today, he probably would answer the exact opposite.

The judge was no stranger to loud voices. After all, he had reared a family of his own, and he had grandchildren. Not to mention that the typical defense attorneys and prosecutors weren't very quiet, with their constant yells of "Objection!" hollered back and forth. But the late young Apollo Justice had been in a league of his own.

Today was another trial like any other, with Phoenix Wright at the defense's bench. Right now, court was in recess for twenty minutes, as Winston Payne was trying (and failing) to keep the blame on the defendant instead of the witness, whom Mr. Wright had expertly implicated as the true culprit. Maybe Payne would pull through, but the judge doubted it. Wright had an uncanny way of seeing the truth. If he indicated that Whit Ness was guilty, then Whit Ness was probably guilty.

The judge couldn't help but notice that the defense attorney was decidedly less enthusiastic than usual, as was his daughter who was serving as his co-counsel for the day. He sighed. _The poor man._ The judge knew that Apollo Justice was as good as a son to Wright. He knew that if one of his children had been taken from him, he would have been devastated. Not to mention Justice had just been buried. And yet Wright was still fighting tooth and nail for his clients. _That is an admirable trait, _the judge mused.

The judge allowed himself a brief moment to reflect upon when he had first met the defense attorney. He had been surprised, of course, as he had been expecting Kristoph Gavin alone. Instead, he had brought a greenhorn with him. The judge didn't know what to think at the time; he wasn't sure what stood out more, the excessively loud voice or the crazy hair. Still, he did feel a slight twinge of envy every time he looked at that hair. The judge himself hadn't had any hair for the past thirty years.

Slowly, but surely, Justice had begun to prove himself, though, even though he had needed some guidance at first. _Then again, who didn't? _That eyesight of his was something else. The judge still had no idea how it worked. And sure, maybe he was a bit less respectful towards his elders than he should be, but he was, after all, young, and his concern for his clients was the genuine article.

The judge felt a twinge of sadness. It was true; at some point, he had begun considering the young attorney a friend of sorts. A very loud friend with an ego to match and about one third his age, yes, but a friend nonetheless. _And he had just found love_, he thought sadly. The judge was not a blind man. He had, after all, fallen in love himself once, and seen it happen to his children. He had had a hunch about what was going on between Justice and Cykes long before even they had suspected it. He had discussed it, and exchanged several chuckles about it, with Wright on a few occasions over lunch. From what he had heard, Cykes had taken a leave of absence after the funeral, saying she needed some time to think things over. He hadn't seen her since. _I hope she's alright, _the judge thought.

There was a knock on the door and it creaked open. "Your Honor?" A bailiff peaked into the room. "It's almost time to reconvene."

The judge nodded, and with a short sigh, rose to return to the courtroom. Then pain exploded in his chest. Every breath felt like his chest was constricted with iron bands, and darkness was eating at the corner of his eyes. He fell to his knees, and his eyes widened. _It can't be..._

Then he collapsed on the floor. He heard footsteps, heard the bailiff screaming for someone to call an ambulance, and the last thing he heard was the bailiff's plea for him to stay with him, just stay with him...

* * *

**_A few weeks later_**

It was a clear, sunny, beautiful day.

The two small children held their mother's hands as their uncle lowered the urn into the grave. Their granduncle was hugging their crying grandmother.

"Mommy?" the girl piped up. "Where did you say grandpa went?"

Ariel Chambers forced a smile at her daughter. "To a better place, sweetie", she said through the lump in her throat. "To a better place."

Turning from the grave, Aaron put an arm around Ariel. The ceremony was over. The family left silently, leaving the white marble gravestone behind them.

**His Honor**

**Justus Chambers**

**1953-2028**

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**Author's note: I'm sorry! *dives for cover***

**This wasn't what I had in mind when I started writing this chapter. It just came to me, and I decided to fly with it.**

**Also, not-quite-so-random family name. I haven't played through Turnabout Substitution.**

**Well, that's it for now.**


	6. Payne of Old Age (Winston Payne)

**Chapter Five: Payne of Old Age (Winston Payne)**

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_Time__: About a month after Apollo's funeral_

_Location: District Court, Courtroom no 4_

* * *

"...hereby find the defendant... _Not Guilty._"

The audience was cheering for the defense. As usual. A seemingly never-ending stream of confetti rained down over the defendant, while the witness and actual culprit, Diddy Dooitt, was hauled away screaming for blood; that seemed to be a recurring theme with the trials he prosecuted.

Winston Payne could do nothing but admit defeat as His Honor Arthur Chambers, younger brother of the late Justus Chambers, slammed his gavel. Another defeat. Sometimes he didn't really know why he kept doing what he did.

Payne wasn't known for being a sociable man (which may have contributed to people's general inability to remember his name), and only a handful of people knew that the confident front he put up was just a mask for his deep insecurity. He wasn't blind; he knew that he was inept at best as a prosecutor, and his glory days were long gone.

On his way out of the courtroom, Payne sighed to himself. _This is the eighth loss this month, _he thought. _This is going to look really bad on my evaluation. Which haven't been that good before this either. _Unlike his somewhat more successful younger brother, Winston had always retained a sense of fair play; he had never succumbed to the desire to forge evidence.

Winston checked his pocket watch. 12:15. He had an hour of lunch, but his appetite was somewhat dwindling these days. He was going to use this time for a more personal errand.

* * *

The aging prosecutor mournfully placed the wreath of roses on the grave, as he had done on this specific date every year for the past five years. Two names were written on the stone. "Gretchen Payne" and "Rebecca Payne". His wife and daughter. On this very day, five years ago, as they were heading home from the grocery store, they had been rammed by a drunk driver. When medical personnel arrived, Gretchen was declared dead on arrival. Rebecca had survived for a few more hours, but died in the hospital later.

As he turned to leave, he saw a familiar sight in the distance. There was no mistaking that hair. _Wright?_

It was Wright alright, and he was carrying some flowers with him. There was no doubt in Payne's mind as to where Wright's destination was. _Mia Fey and Apollo Justice._

Payne hadn't really been all that familiar with Justice. He had prosecuted (and lost) a few trials against him, and the closest they had been to actual conversaton was when they had been on that bus together and attempted small talk, but couldn't quite figure out what to say to each other. Even so, he had been saddened when he heard of his death. He wouldn't have wished it on anyone.

A quote from an old movie came to Winston's mind. _The young perish, and the old linger. _How very true it was. In all fairness, he should have been the one resting here. But fairness is a quite rare thing. He sighed. Right now, he was truly feeling his age. His surname seemed a lot more appropriate to him right now.

He glanced at his watch again. 13:00. It was time to return to the courtroom. With one last look over his shoulder at his family's grave, and a quick glance in the general direction of Apollo's, he left to go back to his life.

* * *

**Author's note:****Sorry for the über-delayed update. School has been keeping me busy, and probably will continue to do so for the next two weeks until this semester is through.**

**Payne is pretty difficult to write for, but I wanted to establish some backstory for him. Hence the Payne-centric narrative.**

**Also, overused title pun is overused. :3 It was the best I could come up with.**


	7. Then There Was Silence (Juniper Woods)

**Chapter Six: Then There Was Silence (Juniper Woods)**

* * *

**Disclaimer: This chapter contains references to excessive drinking. If this subject matter bothers you, please discontinue reading the chapter.**

* * *

_Time__: Six weeks after the funeral_

_Location: Palazzo Paradiso 35 _

* * *

The apartment at Palazzo Paradiso was almost completely silent, with only the sobs and occasional hiccoughs betraying any signs of life within.

It hadn't always been like this. Not long ago, the area was permeated by her singing. She would always sing, sometimes to express her happiness, and sometimes to vent frustrations.

She had tried everything. Therapy, counselling, even shock treatment. Nothing could help her. There was only one thing that could. These days, Juniper Woods had found another, much more effective and destructive outlet.

It had started small. She would come home from a busy day in court, and pour herself a glass of wine to relax and recover from the horrible memories of that day that always seemed to overwhelm her when she came to the courtroom. That one glass became several glasses, then forgoing the glass to drink straight from the bottle; and before long, as her system got used to the wine and made it less effective, every night saw her drinking steadily increasing amounts of hard liquor.

Robin and Hugh hadn't seen the signs at first. Still, Juniper always was good at hiding her feelings. But when they came to her apartment unannounced one evening and found her in a drunken stupor, they had eventually managed to coax the truth out of her, and persuaded her to take another job, far away from the courthouse. But by then, Juniper was too far gone.

* * *

The apartment, which Juniper would always keep meticulously cleaned, was a complete mess. The living room was in the worst shape. Several empty bottles of various liquors cluttered the floor, and in the middle of it all lay Juniper Woods, and with her eyes shut tight and her hands over her ears, as if she was trying to keep the world out. Or to keep her out of her own head. The warmth of the liquor in her stomach did little to soothe the chills running through her.

While the rest of the world may have been hazy, the images inside her head were as clear and dreadful as the day she had lived them. _The scent of blood in the room. The sound of the wind blowing through the ruins of the courtroom and Apollo's strained breathing. And that wound on Apollo's head. _Juniper squealed as the memories overcame her.

If she had had anyone to call on for help, she would have. But Thena was gone, and nobody knew where. No matter how many tried Juniper tried to reach her, she wouldn't pick up her cell phone or answer her e-mails. Robin and Hugh were away on a convention. Mr. Wright and Trucy had enough to cope with without her intruding on them. And Apollo was gone forever.

A little voice began nagging at Juniper. _Your fault_, it said in a sing-song voice. _Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._ It was rising in pitch and volume._ Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

"Shut up", Juniper mumbled tearfully. "Go away."

The voice did not. _Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault._

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Juniper screamed, and before she even knew what she was doing, she ran.

* * *

When Juniper's brain reclaimed higher function, she noticed that she was up on the rooftop. Standing on the very edge, she peered out.

The fact that she was on the roof of an eight-story building didn't bother Juniper at all. She had never had any trouble with heights. In fact, she welcomed it; she relished the wind in her face. It did nothing to soothe the voice, however.

_Your fault. _She had cried out, shouted herself hoarse, cursed everyone she could think about. God. The world. Herself.

_Your fault. _This wasn't the first time she had been up here since the incident. But her resolve would always falter. But maybe, just maybe, tonight would be the night...

_Your fault. _"Yes." Did she say it? Or did she just think it? She didn't know. It didn't matter to her.

_Your fault. _Juniper closed her eyes. She drew a long, deep, trembling breath, filling her lungs for the last time with the cold, sweet night air.

_Your fault. _One step. All it would take would be one more step. One final step...

...and then there was silence.

* * *

**Author's note:**** Well, this is about the most dismal chapter I have planned for this story. I'm going to try to make the next chapters a little more uplifting.**


	8. Harsh Reality (Wocky Kitaki)

**Chapter Seven: Harsh Reality (Wocky Kitaki)**

* * *

_Time__: A day after Apollo's death_

_Location__: Kitaki Mansion_

* * *

The young fox-faced mobster heir was sitting on his bed, staring at his wall. He had been doing this for some time now. While it concerned his mother to no end, his father knew that he had to go through this.

Wocky wasn't a stranger to death. Throughout his childhood, many of his father's... er... accomplices... had met their end carrying out the boss's orders. And while Big Wins pretended to be indifferent, Wocky always knew how much he was hurting over sending someone to their death. Of course, at the time, Wocky had always dismissed it as a sign of weakness. _A real O.G. don't care about that, man!_

Then came Wocky's first tangle with death, when he was shot by the Rivales family. Looking back, it all seemed so stupid. Running in by himself 15 minutes before the appointed time... what was he thinking? But hey, at least he met his soulmate at the hospital.

And then, six months later, he found himself in custody all of a sudden, suspected for a crime he didn't commit. And then during the trial, he was told that the bullet from the Rivales thing was still in his chest. And then that pointy-headed idiot of a lawyer had to implicate his little imposter, of all things. How the heck could he even suspect Alita of doing something like that? But somehow, he was right. Wocky had been furious for a good year.

When his trial was over, Big Wins shipped him off to some strange hospital... it was called Caduceus or something strange like that. The attending surgeon, one Dr. Derek Stiles, was awkward, but his great reputation proved not to be for show as he pulled the bullet out of Wocky's chest with no trouble at all. Big Wins had thanked him overbearingly, while Wocky had muttered a 'Thanks, G', and hoped that the doc's hot nurse girlfriend (as adamantly as they denied it) wouldn't become guilty of murder any time soon.

And so Wocky had continued his life. He took up work in his father's pie shop, where his O.G. Cracker was a pretty major success (although not quite as successful as his father's lime pie). In time, the lawyers from the agency that got him acquitted began to frequent the place, and a friendship of sorts was born. Of course, Wocky had no intention to bake pies forever. One day, he would run the yard, and then everyone would know what time it was. Represent!

...that is, until only the day before, when the Pointy-Locks lawyer was murdered.

The murder of Apollo Justice had shocked Wocky to the core. His friend (of sorts) was gone. Gone forever. Since then, he had simply sat on his bed, staring at his wall. Little Plum was going out of her mind with worry, but Big Wins had simply put a hand on his son's shoulder and said that he would be there when Wocky was ready to talk.

Wocky rose from his bed and left his room. He needed to talk to someone.

* * *

He knocked on the grand oak doors of the boss's office. "Enter", came the deep voice of his father.

Wocky did so, somewhat hesitantly. "Dad? You got a minute?"

Big Wins was slightly surprised to see his son, who virtually never came to his office. But he hid it well. "Sure, Wocky. What can I do for you?"

Wocky took a seat across from his father's mahogany desk. He sat there, looking at his hands for a bit, not knowing what to say.

Big Wins had a feeling what was eating at his son, but refrained from bringing it up. It was better if Wocky started it.

"It's not fair", he suddenly blurted out.

"What isn't?" Big Wins asked.

"What happened to him." Big Wins didn't have to ask what it was; he knew it was about Justice. "Why did he have to die? I don't understand!"

"Wocky", his father interrupted. "There are some things you need to understand. The men I sent to their deaths did so willingly, but it didn't hurt any less. And they were prepared for the possibility of them dying."

"Yeah, but..."

"That's part of the reason why I decided to go legitimate. That, and what happened to you. I could turn a blind eye towards people dying as long as they weren't close to me, as much as it hurt, but you are my only son. When someone you care about dies, or gets close to, it really hits home. You get me?"

"Yeah", Wocky said, then voiced his primary concern. "But Pointy... Apollo didn't do anything wrong! He was just fighting for his client, and then he died! Why?!"

"Son", Big Wins said, straight to the point. "People die for a lot of different reasons. Some choose to end it. Some die naturally. Some die at the behest of others. And some, like Apollo, die simply because they're at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's not fair, but that's how life works."

"Yeah." Wocky's voice was barely above a whisper. "I think I understand now. Why you went legit and why you kept telling me I didn't know. I think I'll be fine now."

Big Wins nodded, and in a rare gesture, got up from behind his desk and pulled his son into a tight, bone-cracking hug. "It'll take some time, but I'll be there to help you recover." He let his son go. "Now what do you say we get down to business? I feel it's time to refresh the pie selection at the shop. Got any ideas?"

For the first time since the day before, Wocky cracked a tentative smile. "Yeah, I just may have a few..."

Maybe baking pies forever wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

**Author's note****:**

**Alright, this came up a lot slower than expected. Sorry about that. I'm back on track now, and I'll try to crank out a new chapter every few days or so.**

**And yes, I do enjoy my references from time to time. ^^**


End file.
